Post Cemetery
by Blue Zombie
Summary: Little ficlet about Craig being at Joey's house in those first days after the cemetery scene.
1. Chapter 1

It's the calm after the storm. Sort of. I'm just sitting around Joey's house, not doing much, not really believing that I left my dad. I thought about those kids by the trash cans filled with fire, how their faces looked all flickery in the firelight. How they stared at me as I walked by. I was afraid, then. Afraid that I was running away alone, afraid of what my dad would do to me once I ended up back there, and I was convinced that I would end up back there. But I didn't. I'm safe at Joey's.

At least he's not really drilling me about what happened. What happened, God. I was so tired of it. Just tired. But Joey likes to tell me it's not my fault. It's weird when he says that because I want to believe him and I kind of do believe him but not completely. Because I know that in some way it was my fault. I made my dad angry. I was a terrible kid and nothing Joey says can change that.

I'm being sort of quiet. I don't have all that much to say. Just sort of watching Joey and Angela, watching his friends when they come over. Noticing how different it is here, how different from my dad's house with all the tension and the anger and the…the everything.

Emma and Sean, though. They know a little more than I'm comfortable with. I kind of freaked out on Sean, standing in front of the train like that. He must think I'm a nut. I was. I had nothing going for me, I was at the end of a rope. But I feel bad that I acted like that in front of him, and then yelling at him at the cemetery, and crying, just breaking down. He'll probably just never want to talk to me again. Too many issues. I understand. I mean, it makes sense to me.

I don't know what Joey really expects, like what I should do. There don't seem to be many rules. That's good, but I'm sort of lost. I keep watching him, trying to figure it out. See if he's mad that I'm here. He doesn't seem to be.

When I wake up sometimes I'm not sure where I am. That first night was like that, I kept waking up in that spare bedroom Joey set me up in, kind of bolting awake, thinking my dad was mad at me, that he was going to hurt me, then I'd look around at the unfamiliar room and for a second just not know where the hell I was. Then it would come back, running away, the cemetery, and then being here. I was kind of messed up.

Angela crawls into my lap and wants me to read her books and stuff. It's nice to be able to see her. And it's fair, it really is. So much of what my dad was doing wasn't fair. Why couldn't I see my own sister if I wanted to? Why couldn't I talk about my mother? I knew it bothered him because she left him and married Joey, I knew that. But that didn't change the fact that she was my mother. And he was looking through all my stuff, he found that album I made. He trashed the dark room. He pushed the plate of food off the table because I was late but I didn't mean to be late, I just lost track of time. God. He expected me to be perfect and I can't be, I couldn't be perfect, so maybe Joey's right. Maybe it isn't my fault, maybe my dad was just a jerk.

"Craig, can you bring Angie up to bed?" Joey called to me from the kitchen, and I jumped up to do it. I knew Joey wouldn't hurt me or anything, but I was sort of conditioned to jump and to do things right away. I kept flinching away from things, everything startled me, and I'd seen the looks of pity Joey would give me. I saw it.

Upstairs and she brushes her teeth and she climbs into bed and she wants another story so I read her another one. She looks like my mother. She reminds me of my mother, and sometimes I could cry looking at her.

"Craig," she says, her voice so little.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't really dinosaurs that hurt you, was it?" I close my eyes. Shake my head.

"No," I say in almost a whisper, my eyes still closed.

"Then who was it?" I sigh, open my eyes a little bit. She's so young.

"My dad," I admit, like confession in her room, the only light the nightlight and the light from the hall.

"Why did he do that?" she said, and I was gonna cry, I could feel it.

"I don't know," I told her.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't cry in Angie's room. Nope. Still not that great at crying in front of people. Except, you know. But in that spare bedroom I just cried into my pillow, hoping Joey wouldn't take it into his head to come and check on me. I didn't want him to think I was any more screwed up.

I kind of felt more screwed up now, now that I wasn't at my dad's anymore. Because when I was there my behavior sort of made sense, you know. Being all jumpy and shit, being kind of miserable but faking like I wasn't, it all fit into what was going on. But now I was tense all the time and jumpy for no reason. It was like not having a disease anymore but still having all the symptoms.

My dreams were kind of getting weird. Not exactly like nightmares but always these anxious things, like in the dream I'm in trouble, and my dad's gonna be mad. Always. And it's like those dreams where you can never scream and never run, all caught in quicksand. And I wake up like falling, out of breath.

Joey tries to act like everything is cool, like it's all casual or whatever. No big deal. But I think I can see, underneath that this pity and I don't like that. Maybe I'm imagining it or something but I swear I'm not. Of course he feels bad for me. I wonder, sometimes, what my mom said about my dad to him. If she said anything. Cause that night when I got to his house right after being at the cemetery, he sort of wanted to bring me to the hospital. I told him I wouldn't go, and that my dad worked there.

"Craig," he had said, "there are other hospitals,"

I shrugged, my arms folded across my stomach. I didn't care. I wouldn't go to any hospital. But Joey wouldn't let up.

"If you're hurt-"

"Joey!" I interrupted him, "I'm fine! Really! Okay, so leave me alone,"

It just sucks. Maybe he didn't believe me, maybe that's why he wanted to see those bruises that Angie had seen. Maybe he had wanted to bring me back to my dad's if there wasn't…proof. It's okay, I mean, what could he do?

Crying, but it was stopping. It was just cause Angie asked like that, and I kind of had to admit it to her. I mean, I couldn't lie to her. It wasn't fair. But I was sort of far from where I liked to be, which was pretending that things were fine. Everything was okay and normal and all that. How normal was it if I was at Joey's? If people kept pointing out that things were wrong with me? If I wasn't the only one who saw the bruises?

I wanted to just sleep and not have any dreams at all. I wanted to just wake up and not wonder where the hell I was. I wanted to not have to see that hidden pity look on Joey's face. I wanted to not worry about going back to my dad's, since this was temporary. And I'd have to go back and get my stuff.

"Hi, Craig," Joey said when I came into the kitchen. Rubbing my eyes, already forgetting the bad dreams. I knew where I was. I was at Joey's so stuff could get sorted out. It was fine.

"Hi,"

He got me some cereal and I listened to the cartoons that were on the T.V. They were so loud. Too much color. It kind of hurt my eyes to look at them this early in the morning. Today was the day I had to get my stuff at my dad's house. I didn't want to. I really didn't. I didn't know if I could face him.

I finished my cereal and brought the bowl to the sink, searched around for the sponge to wash it. Couldn't find it.

"Leave it. I'll do it," Joey said, and sipped his coffee. He said it so casually, so like whatever, it didn't matter. I blinked. His tone and the whole thing, it made me feel weird. I always did my dishes at my dad's, cause sometimes it didn't matter but sometimes it did. I mean, we had a dishwasher, but I'd never leave a dish in the sink. I'd rinse it and put it in the dishwasher cause once, well. I closed my eyes and could remember it almost like it was happening.

"Craig. You just leave a pile of dirty dishes in this sink? You think I'm your maid?" My dad had said and I looked up from whatever it was I had been doing, and the tone and the anger on his face. I felt that cold feeling, that adrenaline high unreal sinking feeling. I don't know if I ran or if I just stood there but he got me, he grabbed me and I could still feel his hands around my wrists and how he shoved me back-

"Craig?" Joey. I opened my eyes. Shit.

"Yeah, uh, okay," I said, and just left the dish there.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing like an idiot in Joey's kitchen, but he didn't understand. This was so weird for me. And I really wasn't looking forward to going to my dad's house today.

"Craig? You okay?" Joey said, looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup. I shook my head, still able to see my dad and how angry he was that time. And Joey asked that question a lot, and people only ask it if you're not okay. I guess I wasn't.

"Yeah. No, I'm fine,"

I got dressed in one of the few outfits I'd brought in that black bag. I had planned to run away with only like three changes of clothes? But it's pretty hard to pack when your dad is beating down the door with a golf club.

Downstairs Angie crawled into my lap and we watched cartoons. That was nice. I wondered how long this would last. This was sort of like when you have a mean teacher and then you get a nice substitute who doesn't yell all the time and whack your knuckles with rulers and it's nice, but you know the mean teacher will come back.

There was a knock at the door and I whipped my head around, thinking it was my dad, he came to get me. I couldn't breathe.

"Hi," It was only Emma, looking really skinny in that skirt. Angela crawled off my lap and over to her, reached up her arms for Emma to pick her up. She hoisted her up on her hip.

"Hi, Emma. Thanks for coming, we'll be ready in a minute," Joey said, and ran upstairs for a second.

"Hi, Craig," she said softly, kind of peering at me.

"Hi," I said, not looking at her. I felt kind of stupid from the other night. Emma knew I was a mess.

I wanted Joey to take all day up there, I didn't want to go and get my stupid stuff. We could just leave it there, I mean, who cared?

"Craig! Come up here!" Joey called, and I tried to think if I did something he'd get mad at. I made the bed and the room was fairly neat and…shit. Did I forget something?

Joey was in the spare bedroom I'd been using but he didn't look mad, just sort of concerned. I looked at him, trying to figure it out.

"Craig, listen, I talked to your dad,"

"You did?" A thousand things were going through my head, like Joey would say I had to go back there. Or that my dad never wanted me back since I betrayed him. I sat on the bed and fiddled with the bedspread. Waited for Joey to say whatever he was going to say.

"I did. I explained it to him and he understands what has to happen, that you'll be staying with me while he gets…help,"

Help. Yeah, he needed help alright. But I let out my breath. God, everything made me so nervous. I was such a nervous wreck.

I got in Joey's red convertible with the white leather seats, kind of banged my side where my dad had kicked me and it still hurt. I winced. God, was this so screwed up. Joey started up the car and I closed my eyes. I did not want to do this. Not at all. What would he do? He'd be all nice and say he was sorry, 'I'm so sorry, Craig. It'll never happen again,' he'd say that. I'd heard that so many times before. His job was stressful. I knew. I knew all that.


End file.
